


A Cookie Never Hurts

by officerstilinskihale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Basically, Cookies, Fluff, Fuckin' Fluffy Mondays, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, The End, because, derek says no, ffm, happy endings, he ruins the cookies, i just spoilt the story, i need to work on my tagging skills, my bad - Freeform, seriously, stiles tries to propose, tagging spoilers, they make cookies, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officerstilinskihale/pseuds/officerstilinskihale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Prompt:</b> “I want arrogant!Stiles and Derek shutting him down while they bake cookies.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cookie Never Hurts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scruffy_Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruffy_Wolf/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to [captainscruffywolf](http://captainscruffywolf.tumblr.com/) because we started this thang. And by this thang, we mean [this thang](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/post/52855894717/fuckin-fluffy-mondays). You should join us!
> 
> Also, her prompt.
> 
> All mistakes are mine, because this was unbeta'd.
> 
> Jeff Davis, unfortunately, still owns everything, but if I did, Sterek awkward moments would become canon quicker than you can say "Let's see that fist.".

“So,” Erica drawled and, no. Derek _hated_ it when she drawled. So, no. They were not going there. Not again.

“No,” Derek said, ignoring Erica’s pout as she hopped up onto his dresser, her legs swinging back and forth lazily.

“You guys have been together for what, six years now?”

“Six years in two months,” Derek corrects, raising an eyebrow at her. She opens her mouth to snark back some witty retort when they hear the front door click open.

“Honey, I’m home,” Stiles snickers and Derek rolls his eyes. It’s some private inside joke Stiles has with himself that Derek cannot, for the love of him, understand but as long as it keeps Stiles happy, Derek can’t honestly say that he complains.

“You guys are so domestic it makes me sick,” Erica says fondly, hopping off the dresser, “All I’m saying is that it would be nice if you guys got married.”

Derek ignored her, brushing his fingers lightly against her throat when she walks past him and out the door, an affectionate smile on her face, probably to go and talk to Stiles.

Derek stood there for a moment, inhaling the scent of pack and happiness and love and _Stiles_ in their room, letting himself think about it.

Marriage. Huh.

+++

“What’s being married like?” Stiles asks Lydia and Allison one day, staring down at his plate of curly fries.

“It’s great,” Lydia said brightly, her perfect lips pulled back in a wide, and frankly terrifying, smile, “Now Jackson's legally obligated to do whatever I say. There’s a certificate for it and everything.

Stiles scowls at her and turns a betrayed look to Allison, who’s trying (and failing) to hide a smile behind her phone. Lydia reaches over to grab Stiles’ hands in hers and blinks at him earnestly.

“It’s good, Stiles,” she says honestly and Allison nods, the smirk slipping off her face and her expression morphing into something a little more serious.

“But I really like how were are now,” Stiles admits quietly, more to himself than to the girls, “I don’t want things to change.”

“Things don’t have to change Stiles,” Allison said gently, “And even if they did, they could change for the better.”

Stiles shook his head.

“I don’t think he wants to anyway,” he said dejectedly, “Otherwise he would’ve brought it up by now, right?”

Lydia dropped his hands and rolled her eyes so violently Stiles was genuinely worried for a brief moment that they would fall out of her head.

“Derek is still so emotionally constipated, I wouldn’t be surprised if it took him until he was at least 40 to realize he wants to get married. He loves you, you moron, and if you don’t believe it then you’re clearly beyond any help I can offer you,” Lydia said firmly, her caring-for-Stiles quota clearly at its end, “Now hurry up and eat your damn fries, I want have at least three hours at Macy’s and still be able to go to the video store to get The Notebook.”

“Macy’s closes in two hours, Lydia,” Stiles told her, legitimately wondering whether being married to Jackson had made her a little bit dumber.

“Then you’d better hurry,” she said, voice saccharine sweet and Stiles just looked at her in disbelief.

Yeah, this is what he got from hanging out with stupidly gorgeous girls who didn’t have as much joy in their lives as they did from watching him struggle with the sheer amount of shopping bags they acquired from one trip to the mall. Seriously, he had single-handedly taken down an Alpha while suffering from a concussion and broken bones, didn’t he deserve some respect?

He was jerked out of his thoughts when he saw them finish up the last of his curly fries and he gasped, offended.

Yeah, they probably didn’t care.

“Chop, chop, Alfred,” Lydia called, already walking purposefully to Macy’s and Stiles glared at the back of her head.

“At least make me Batman!”

The only thing he heard was their tinkling laughter before they rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight.

+++

“Derek and I are going to get married,” Stiles said on their regular family dinner night with Scott, Melissa and his dad, because Allison was also having her weekly family dinner with Chris. Scott’s jaw dropped and his dad choked on the piece of roast he was eating.

“Oh my god,” he said faintly, his voice wavering, Melissa patting him on the back carefully, “When?”

Stiles winced, rubbing a hand at the back of his head.

“Well, we haven't really decided yet? It was just an idea, kind of?” he said, more of a question and Scott rolled his eyes.

“I thought you already asked him!” he said, betrayed and went back to eating, stabbing his broccoli with great prejudice.

“Why would _I_ be the one to ask?” Stiles gaped uselessly at him and was offended when they started laughing at him.

“Oh sweetheart,” was all Melissa said before going back to her dinner as if nothing had happened.

“I don’t get it,” he whined, pouting aggressively at the table as a whole.

“Stiles, Derek is not going to ask you to marry him,” his dad said, swallowing down a gulp of… was that whiskey? How did he get that without Stiles noticing? He and Scott were going to have some serious words about loyalty and not succumbing to threats of blackmail made by his dad.

“Well, I’m not going to ask him,” Stiles said, shrugging, “Maybe we should just set a date and neither of us have to ask the other one.”

Stiles went back to his plate and missed the significant look his dad and Melissa shot each other.

“I got your back, Stiles,” Scott nodded, shooting him a supportive smile, which was really nice, actually, Scott was the bestest best friend anyone could ask for, “Unless he tries to beat you up for suggesting that, in which case, you’re on your own buddy, sorry.”

Yeah, Stiles was taking that compliment back.

+++

“Hey honey, I’m… Are you baking cookies?” Stiles asked, eyes widening as he walked into the house two days later and took in Derek in the kitchen, the sleeves of his Henley rolled up to the elbows and manually whisking eggs.

“Yeah, want some?”

“I thought we agreed to never bake cookies without the other one,” Stiles complained, walking closer to take in Derek's progress.

“No, that was just a rule for you,” Derek smirked, pouring the egg mixture into a bowl with the melted butter and the sugar, turning the beaters on and glancing up at Stiles, who was sulking.

“But, _you_ said I couldn’t bake cookies without you and it should be understood that means you can’t bake them without me!” Stiles said, picking at a loose thread on his plaid shirt, trying to cut it off without it unraveling, “I don’t get how that’s fair.”

“When was the last time you baked cookies yourself to try and surprise me?” Derek asked patiently, looking over his shoulder at the mixture. Once he was satisfied, he turned around, turned the beaters off and began sifting the floor, letting out a questioning noise to Stiles when he didn’t answer.

“Last year for our 5th year anniversary,” Stiles mumbled, already knowing where this was going.

“Right,” Derek agreed, adding the chocolate chips in and feeding a handful to Stiles with a gentle smile, “And what happened?”

“I nearly set the house on fire,” Stiles said despondently, through a mouthful of chocolate, “And you panicked when you smelt the smoke rounding the corner in your Camaro and you nearly crashed it.”

“That’s right,” Derek said, handing Stiles another couple of the chocolates, as if Stiles was a dog he had just trained to do the right thing, “So?”

“I can’t bake cookies by myself because you don’t want me in danger but you can because you know what you’re doing,” Stiles recited forlornly and Derek couldn’t hide the way his mouth twitched. Leaning in to peck Stiles’ mouth, his nose lingered just under Stiles’ ear, breathing in the scent of him and thought back to what Erica had told him.

Shaking his head at himself mentally, Derek pulled back and added the flour to the butter/egg/sugar mixture and gestured to Stiles.

“Do you wanna mix this to make the cookie dough?”

Stiles looked up sharply, his eyes bright.

“You’d let me?”

“You idiot, of course I would,” Derek rolled his eyes, “I just don’t want you to do it by yourself until you learn how.”

Grinning at Derek, Stiles ran his hands under the running water and grumbled when Derek shot him a look, washing his hands properly.

“Hey Derek?” Stiles asked absently as Derek pulled trays out of their cupboard and lined them with baking paper.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about marriage?” Stiles asked carefully, kneading the ball of cookie dough until it was soft and the perfect consistency.

Derek flinched and nearly dropped the trays he was holding, only managing to catch them before they hit the ground because of his supernatural reflexes. His head whipped around to look at Stiles, who was focusing intently on the bowl on top of the counter, his expression one of forced neutrality.

Well, two could play at that game.

“Yeah, it’s okay I guess. Why? Reckon Isaac’s going to propose?” he asked casually, taking the cookie dough from Stiles’ hands and beginning to sort them onto the tray, leaving room between each piece in case they spread and stuck together, something that Derek _hated_.

“Whu—no?” Stiles faltered, his eyes widening and his cheeks flushing, “Is he? I would’ve thought Danny would be the one proposing?”

Derek shrugged.

“I haven’t heard anything, but I assume they will soon enough.”

“Yeah, then we’ll be the only couple in the pack who isn’t married,” Stiles grumbled and Derek hid a smile.

“Yeah, I guess we will be,” he said, finishing up with the cookies and sliding them in the oven. He shut the oven door and set the timer then leant back against the tabletop, looking at Stiles expectantly. Stiles was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, his eyes darting around the kitchen, avoiding Derek's and Derek could see Stiles was physically holding the words back.

He gave it about ten seconds.

Shooting Stiles a small smile, Derek then walked out of the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and was already heading towards the living when Stiles broke.

“We should get married,” Stiles blurted out, trailing behind Derek.

Derek turned his head to look over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

“Was that a proposal?”

“No,” Stiles scoffed, crossing his arms, “I just said we should.”

“I guess so,” Derek began and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Buuut?” he said, looking at Derek. It was a testament to how well Stiles really knew Derek that there actually was a ‘but’ in there.

Haha, butt.

“I don’t think we need to, I’m happy this way and I know you are too.”

“It’d be nice though, wouldn’t it?” Stiles said wistfully, collapsing down onto the couch and curling into Derek's side when he sat down next to him, “Think about it.”

“Yeah, it really would,” Derek said quietly. He meant it, too. His parents had wanted to marry each other from the beginning of their relationship and when there really wasn’t any difference because Derek knew Stiles was never going to leave him and vice versa, he would just _really_ want to call Stiles his husband, not just his boyfriend or his partner. And apparently it was easier for gay couples to adopt kids if they were married. It was some stupid rule that Derek really didn’t think made much sense but he wanted a girl, and he knew Stiles wanted kids too, sooner rather than later.

“So, I think we should get married,” Stiles repeated, pressing the words into Derek’s skin where his mouth was pushed into the junction between his neck and his shoulder.

“Well, I’m not asking you and I don’t see you on your knee,” Derek said, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles rolled his eyes again, assuming Derek was just messing around.

“We should just pick a date and have the wedding, neither of us needs to ask the other.”

Derek pulled away to look Stiles in the face.

Shit, Stiles was being serious.

“No,” Derek said, untangling his limbs from Stiles’ and getting up off the couch.

“Bu—what? I, just, you,” Stiles sputtered angrily, glaring at Derek's retreating figure.

“No,” Derek repeated, throwing a smirk over his shoulder, “Not until you ask me.”

“But it’s not like you’ll say no!” Stiles called out, not even making a move to pull himself off the couch.

When Derek didn’t reply, Stiles let out an exaggerated sigh and heaved himself up, trudging to the kitchen, where Derek was checking up on the cookies.

“You wouldn’t say no,” he repeated, crossing his arm over his and leaning against the fridge. Derek glanced up at him, shutting the oven door.

“I know.”

“Then why can’t we just get married?”

“Because I want you to ask me,” Derek shrugged.

“I bet you I could convince you to marry me even if I didn’t explicitly ask,” Stiles challenged and Derek cocked an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“Challenge fucking accepted, bitch,” Stiles said, pushing himself away from the fridge and hip-checking Derek out of the way, “I shall woo you with my cookies. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Cookies that I made,” Derek said dryly and Stiles waved a hand at him dismissively, peering into the oven and rearing back at the sudden wave of heat on his face.

“Semantics,” he croaked out and looked back into the oven, then back at Derek, a quizzical look on his face. There was a pause and Derek tilted his head, smirking at Stiles.

Growling in frustration, Stiles examined the cookies again and then conceded defeat, turning to Derek.

“Are they okay to be taken out yet?”

“I don’t know, are they?” Derek said and Stiles frowned at him.

“I don’t know! That’s why I was asking!”

Derek did nothing but smile at him infuriatingly and Stiles shook his head.

“Fucking fine, whatever,” he grumbled, grabbing their oven mitts (it had sheep on them, because Lydia thought she was hilarious) and reached in to pull the trays out.

Getting a good grip on both trays, one in each hand, and he really should’ve realized that was a horrible idea; he began drawing them out of the oven. Unfortunately, he miscalculated the length of the tray and pulled up too early, hitting the tray on the corner of the oven. Startled, Stiles’ hand jolted and he hit his forearm on the top of the oven.

Yelping, Stiles yanked the rest of the cookies out on reflex, dropping them on the floor and wailing. Derek snorted, catching Stiles as he began to slump to the floor, and thrust his burnt arm under the cold-water tap and turning it on. Stiles’ wails died down once the burn subsided to a manageable, dull throbbing and he looked down on the angry, red mark, contrasting with his pale skin and Derek's large, tanned hand slowly brushing the skin around it, soothing. Derek eased away the pain and Stiles leant up to catch his lips, his arms going around Derek's waist, careful not to brush the burn against the rough denim of Derek's jeans. Nuzzling into Stiles’ mouth for a moment, Derek squeezed the back of Stiles’ neck, pulling away to murmur,

“You okay?”

When Stiles nodded, Derek pressed one last kiss to Stiles’ lips before stepping back and taking a look at the mess on their floor. He glanced up to find Stiles also surveying the mess and they stared at each other for a while before bursting into laughter, Derek shaking his head at Stiles’ ability to ruin an hour of work in less than ten seconds.

“I love you,” he said honestly. He couldn’t help it, not really. After everything they’ve been through, after Laura, Peter, _Cora_ , after the Alpha back, the trolls… after that all, Derek couldn’t imagine living his life without him.

Stiles shot him a small, private smile. Derek never saw it around other people and he felt a small burst of warmth, because Stiles was his. Stiles was _his_ , and for some reason Stiles loved him just as much as Derek loved Stiles, sometimes even more, Derek thought. After what Kate did, Derek didn’t think he deserved anything half this significant but when Stiles found out about it, he didn’t even give Derek room to say it was his fault. All he had done was to kiss Derek until he was gasping and whisper,

“If I didn’t know dad would disown me for it, I would bring her back from the dead just so I can kill her again.”

“Hey Derek?” Stiles said quietly, his fingers sliding under Derek's shirt and lightly rubbing the sensitive skin on his hipbones.

“Yeah?”

“We should get married.”

Derek stiffened, slapping Stiles’ hands away from his hips. He turned to look at Stiles weirdly, then at the cookies on the floor.

“Seriously?”

“Well, I just thought—“ Stiles began defensively but shut his mouth with a snap when Derek cut him off,

“Um, _no_.”

Stiles spluttered, his eyes wide.

“I’m injured!”

“You didn’t ask,” Derek said simply, walking out of the kitchen in his stupid tight jeans and he was definitely wiggling his ass on purpose, “Besides, you didn’t even manage to woo me with my own cookies, because they’re currently decorating our kitchen floor.”

“I—“

“The kitchen better be spotless when I get back, _honey_ ,” Derek called out sarcastically, rounding the corner and leaving Stiles gaping into empty air.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t really want to marry you anyway,” Stiles grumbled, knowing perfectly well Derek could hear him. He was offended that Derek didn’t say yes and he fully intended to let Derek know it.

That _was_ a proposal, wasn’t it?

Sure, it wasn’t really a question, but it’s not like Derek would’ve said no.

“I hate you,” he yelled out, plonking down on the floor and grabbing a cookie when Derek's laughter floated back to him.

The five-second rule only applies to normal food, cookies _always_ get an extra minute or two, shut the fuck up.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://officerstilinskihale.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> I also take random prompts, just by the way, so if you want anything written down, just message me and stuff. Anything over 1500 words gets posted here on AO3 but anything under that is posted as a drabble on my tumblr. See you there!


End file.
